As If You Have A Choice
by AJarOfDirt
Summary: When a foray with the time-turner takes Harry, Ron and Hermione all the way back to 1933, they stow away on the S. S. Venture, completely unaware of what is at stake on this particular voyage. *HP/King Kong crossover*
1. Prologue

**A/N:** I don't own Harry Potter or King Kong. They belong to J. K. Rowling and Merian C. Cooper respectively.

* * *

**Prologue**

The Burrow was one of those places that sparked people's curiosities. It wasn't just because of its dilapidated state – it looked like it would topple the moment something as slight as a feather graced it – neither was it simply due to the quirkiness of its inhabitants, wizard, witch or creature. Rather, it had an air of mystery and secret about it. The Weasleys would never admit it – although this could be due to the fact that none of them were aware of such a speculation – but the Burrow looked somewhat deceptive. On first glance, you would not have guessed a family of as big as nine could live in there at all, let alone reside in comfort and warmth. It barely looked like it would adequately fit a family of three. Any unknowing passer-by was actually more likely to think of it as a haphazard lair of some mad loner of a warlock with anger issues (he'd probably hexed his own house out of irritation, hence its decay), and would have shied away immediately.

However, Hermione would have scoffed at these people given the chance. For all her years bunking in with the Weasleys on various summers, she had felt nothing but hospitality, kindness and affection. It had been that way ever since she had first arrived there. The Burrow wasn't just another building she could forego. It had become a third home to her – after her parents' house in London and Hogwarts of course. To say she was happy to return to the Burrow was a deep understatement.

Hermione found that whatever task she undertook at the Weasleys', her actions were not the least bit contrived. Be it helping Ginny weed the garden, or aiding Harry and Ron in feeding the chickens and degnoming the backyard, she always did it all out of gratefulness and thus, she never complained. So naturally, when Mrs Weasley's request for her to help clear out the attic came, Hermione accepted it without a fuss.

The naked light bulb that swung like a pendulum of a grandfather clock above Harry's, Ron's and Hermione's heads was the only source of light in the attic. The windows that would have let glorious sunlight shine through were thickly and impenetrably coated with grime the shade of algae. Layers of slate-grey dust caked everything in the attic, and the Weasley family ghoul was only barely visible in a dark crook that greatly resembled a marsh. One could witness the floating dust moats around the room. Overall, the room smelt slightly damp, the air was humid and the ghoul snored terribly. It felt rather uninviting, but the trio had promised Mrs Weasley a decently-cleaned attic and well, nobody liked to see Mrs Weasley on a bad day.

They decided to divide and conquer; splitting the large piles up so each had more than enough to sort through. However odd it may seem, there was still some organisation in the heap. Harry's section turned out to mainly consist of old Quidditch equipment and school supplies. Ron, on the other hand, had to deal with family heirlooms in the forms of statuettes and trophy objects. Finally, Hermione conceded to sorting out the old clothes and tomes that cluttered her corner of the attic. The group sifted through the piles as though on an archaeological expedition. While Ron tossed little figurines aside in distaste, Harry and Hermione dug through their mounds enthusiastically, immersed in that which interested them.

Hermione squealed as she picked through her lot. Books had always been her preferred avenue. "Merlin, I'd never thought I'd ever come across volumes such as these! How come you didn't tell me your family had them, Ron?" she asked excitedly.

"Do I _look_ like the kind of person who stays up in a smelly old attic all day finding _books_? I'm sorry, but I've got better things to do with my time," Ron shot back irritably. "Besides, the reason they're all up here's probably because Dad was just iffy and bought a whole bunch of Muggle books from something called an Oxfam. The last time he brought back a load of it, Muriel threatened to blast the house apart – she was visiting, you see. So Dad had to chuck it all up here and promise never to look at it again to make her happy. Now, they're probably ancient history in his mind. I don't think he's ever going to sort this all out if we don't do it for him."

"Do you think he would mind if I took some of these though?"

Ron shrugged. "Go right ahead. Like I said, Dad's probably already forgotten he has these."

* * *

The night was hot and as a result, Hermione decided to crack the windows of the bedroom she was sharing with Ginny. The youngest Weasley was downstairs playing with Crookshanks. Hermione herself was reclining on her bed on top of the comforter with one of the old volumes she had borrowed from the Weasleys sitting open on her lap. Earlier, she had spent a good fifteen minutes admiring the chocolate-coloured velvet jacket embossed with makeshift precious stones. Its title, _The World of Kong: A Natural History of Skull Island_, was sewn into the fabric with metallic thread.

That very title had been etched in her memory since the first time she came across it. Just the name – Skull Island – intrigued her. For awhile, she had been searching for the book. She'd even thought to check the Muggle bookstores and libraries and yet there was no sign of it. Some librarians had even turned her away, claiming to be unaware that such a book even existed. From the looks of the copy she had propped up against her thighs though, it was definitely a collector's piece.

Although Hermione was usually a quick reader, she took her time, slowly digesting the encyclopaedia's contents. It was as though everything in it was too unbelievable for her to grasp by glances. Her shrewdness kept her from believing much that she took in from the book describing the expeditions of one Carl Denham and his crew on 'Project Legacy'. Evolved dinosaurs, a twenty-five-foot gorilla that sparked their travels, and other unfathomable flora and fauna all seemed too far-fetched. Hermione was judicious enough not to be easily fooled by bedtime-story horrors after all. And that was what they all were to her – tales to shake the hearts of timid children. She soon grew disinterested in the book and tossed it aside, figuring that finishing it would be a huge waste of time. She was genuinely disappointed and was just about to retrieve another tome from the stack next to her bed when the door swung open and a scarlet-faced Ron stormed into the room.


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter 1**

"Don't you ever knock?" Hermione asked incredulously as Ron slammed the bedroom door behind him – Harry had to dive into the room to avoid getting hit squarely on the nose by it – and proceeded to stomp around the room. His knuckles were white as he muttered obscenities under his breath, too irate to think of any response.

_Being angry doesn't excuse you for having no manners,_ Hermione glowered at him. Ron's features were creased into an ugly scowl as well. He looked very much like a livid boar. Harry slowly inched himself to Hermione's bed as he eyed his scarlet-haired friend warily. He cautiously sat himself on the edge of the mattress, the squeak of the bed frame hardly audible. It was as though any sudden movement would cause Ron's grudges to erupt with a vengeance. Nevertheless, Hermione had wrath of her own, and she demanded explanation for Ron's insolent – and honestly childish – behaviour.

"What's the matter with him?" she rounded on Harry. The gaze she had fixed on the bespectacled boy was sharp enough to pierce even the thickest of leather.

"Why'd you have to go and ask _him_ what's the matter with _me_?" Ron suddenly questioned, storming towards the bed. His entire head was alizarin with annoyance. "Think I can't answer for myself or something?"

"I don't think that at all. I simply know that _you_ would just yell at me without reason, regardless of what I asked!" Hermione snapped. She abruptly stood to be eye level with Ron and silently cursed that she was so vertically challenged. It was hard to pull off a threatening glare when you barely reached the shoulders of your opponent.

"Guys, calm down!" Harry was on his feet by then. "Let's just talk it out. Okay? Like civilised people for a change."

"Oh, I've got that covered, Harry," Hermione quipped icily. "It's just _this_ one you'd want to look out for."

She waved her hand in Ron's general direction.

The azure of Ron's eyes glinted furiously. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"_Don't_ start this again," Harry commanded. "Sit down. Both of you."

Hermione plopped herself back onto her bed. Her arms were folded across her chest and she continued to glare daggers at Ron, who sat himself on Ginny's bed across the room. "So, like I asked, Harry, what's the matter with him?"

"Mrs Weasley was nagging him about the attic-"

"She wasn't just nagging me, Harry! She was accusing me of throwing that bloody ring away!"

"What ring?" Hermione cocked an eyebrow and tilted her head. It was a signal of part curiosity, part suspicion.

"Some stupid family heirloom I didn't even know existed until tonight's what it is," Ron grumbled. The crimson of his cheeks was slowly receding.

"Well, _did_ you throw it away?"

"Hell no! I didn't even see the damned thing!"

"Honestly though, what if you tossed it by accident?" Hermione argued. "Oh, Ron, don't give me that look, it could've happened! Rings are small enough to be easily lost."

"Well, whatever the case, that b-"

"Ron!"

"-bat of a woman's going to have me search for it tomorrow or something. I'd bet money on that if I actually had any."

Ron griped as he slumped to the floor, his face returning to its regular pale pink, freckly countenance. "Merlin, I don't want to go through that garbage again!"

"Well, it's the price you pay for being careless," Hermione reprimanded. "You can't turn back time anyway, so might as well just face the music and-"

"Hermione, have I ever told you you were a genius?" Ron interrupted.

He was gazing at Hermione with unexpected puppy-eyed adoration. The swift change in emotion was enough to be considered bipolar. Fortunately, Harry caught on quick enough.

"Oh no," he muttered. "I know that look. We're _not_ doing it, Ron."

Hermione was utterly bewildered. "Doing what?"

"Harry, it's perfect! If we go back in time, I can find the bloody ring in the stash, make sure I keep it safe and then I'll be able to show Mum the stupid thing so I'll be off the hook!"

"You want to use the _time-turner_?" Hermione's head whipped in Ron's direction. Her veracity was what kept her ahead in every situation. "Like hell you will."

"Why not? It's not like _you_ use it anymore these days. I'm brushing the dust off it for you," Ron said proudly.

"Can't use it if I don't give it to you," Hermione huffed as she settled back properly in her bed. "I will not approve of such nonsense."

"Come on, 'Mione!" Ron practically pleaded. "It's not like I'm seriously breaking the law! I'm just going to find something."

"_No_."

Ron glanced at Harry for help, but when the latter did nothing, he was stuck. He was left to continue with his petition until Ginny entered the bedroom, chasing both boys out in the process. They then had no choice but to clamber up the rickety stairs to their shared quarters before Mrs Weasley scolded them for not being in bed. As they creakily climbed, Ron turned around to face Harry.

"We're taking that thing, even if she doesn't want to give it to us," he whispered.

"Why _we_?"

"Because _I've_ stuck with _you_ throughout so much crap for seven years!" Ron muttered urgently. "I think you owe me one favour, don't you?"

Harry knew that Ron was still being ridiculous and that his plans would most probably backfire. All the same, it didn't make him feel any less guilty. It wasn't as though Ron was wrong about his accusation either, even if he probably didn't really mean it. Harry would've felt the culpability without Ron saying anything.

"Fine," he conceded.

_One favour,_ he reminded himself as he changed into his pyjamas and got under the covers. _What could possibly go wrong with one favour?_

* * *

"Ow! Ron, you stepped on my foot!" Harry hissed.

"Shut up, or they'll wake up! Now where d'you think she keeps it?"

Harry rolled his eyes in aggravation as he stood by the door, his eyes rapidly flying from Hermione to Ginny, making sure they lay asleep like well-fed babies in their cribs. "Dunno, maybe in her trunk? Just make it fast, okay? This feels strange."

"What, being in my sister's room at three in the morning?" Ron could barely hide his chuckle. It came out a muffled snort anyway.

"Merlin, just find the damn time-turner!"

Ron was giving his best attempt at being careful. His knobby fingers circumspectly clicked open the latches of the trunk, praying that their metallic clap would neither wake his sister nor Hermione. Searching the suitcase itself was an easy task, for Hermione was organised to a fault. Clothes were colour-coded, books were alphabetised, and any little bobs and bits seemed to be in separate compartments in the roof of the trunk. It was no trouble to retrieve the time-turner from its little pocket, but no sooner had Ron's fingers touched the tiny hourglass did a shrill screech erupt from it. Instantly, the lamps flickered to life and Hermione sat up in bed. Her expression could only be described as one of triumph. Ginny rolled over under her comforter and groaned.

"Okay, 'Mione, you caught 'em, now please turn it off!"

With a wave of a wand, the strident wailing stopped.

Ginny sat up and shook her head at her brother. "I can't believe you didn't think she'd realise you'd want to steal it."

"Learnt a lesson?" Hermione teased her friends.

"_Her-my-oh-nee_!" Ron groaned as he fell back on the rug in the middle of the cramped room. "Just let me borrow it! Please! A few hours are all I need, and then you can have it back."

"Ron, would it kill you to search the attic again in the morning?" Hermione questioned as she got out of bed to pull him up.

"My sentiments exactly," Harry agreed as he stepped forward to help Hermione. "I mean if you really didn't misplace it-"

"The thing is, I'm not sure if I'm even able to find the ring later," Ron confessed as he stood up and the three friends walked out to the landing. "I- I never checked any of the boxes thoroughly when I tossed stuff, okay? If I saw something old and half-eaten by Merlin-knows-what, it went out. The point is if I can't find that ring by tomorrow, I'm in hot water, guys. You know it. At least if I use the time-turner, I can ensure my safety. Mum seemed really shaken up when she found out that the ring was lost. It was supposed to be for Ginny. Y'know how I got the watch and all, Ginny was supposed to get the ring. Dunno why in the hell it was up in the attic, but it _was_, so…" he left his sentence dangling; he'd said enough anyway.

Hermione seemed to actually think that account over. "Well, 'meticulous' was never your middle name," she said harshly. However, there seemed to be an air of consideration in her words.

"And you couldn't have mentioned all this before?" Harry inquired.

Ron ignored him. "_Please_, Hermione. I'll even take Harry with me! If you think I can't do it on my own, then I'll bring someone."

Hermione could vaguely hear Harry mutter profanity to himself. The question "why me?" was the most audible of his mumbles.

"Oh, you're taking Harry, all right," she stared pointedly at him. "And me."

"_What_?" the two boys said simultaneously, clearly taken aback by her statement.

"I can't trust you two using this on your own! What if you're _seen_? It'll end up being my fault if both you die if you attack yourselves in the past!"

"You can do that?" Ron asked in open-mouth wonder.

Hermione rolled her eyes as she went back to Ginny's room to get the time-turner. "Do you want to use it now?" she enquired when she returned. All she got for answers were a couple of hesitant nods.

Despite the lack of enthusiasm from either party, she slung the long gold chain around each boy's neck anyway, then around her own, and deftly held the minute hourglass between her fingers. She tried to dust the dirt off it until she took note of its reddish-brown facade. It was rust.

"Damn it! I didn't know this thing could rust," she garbled. "It'll make turning a lot more difficult."

Hermione struggled with the little handle of the time-turner, but it remained stuck. She continued to tug at it for several moments more before giving up and passing it to Harry. If Quidditch muscles couldn't make it work, she had a feeling nothing could at the moment.

"It wasn't _this_ difficult in our third year as far as I saw," Harry observed. His hands quivered as he exerted strength onto the little knob. "Unless Dumbledore was this strong."

"Keep trying, but please don't break it," Hermione squeaked. "Consequences are deadly if you do. Remember what happened at the Ministry? We could end up being stuck trying to work a rusty time-turner for eternity."

Just as she spoke, Harry managed to move the handle with a nimble pull. However, it didn't just loosen the hourglass, it made it spin so rapidly it was hard to catch. All one could see was a burnt umber globe with tiny glints of the gold that peeked from beneath it. Before any of them knew what was going on, the world began to blur itself into splotches of colour as they travelled back in time.

* * *

**A/N:** Ideating this chapter was a lot harder than I thought it would be. Logic was the trump card in this case. I think I got it all right though. Next chapter, the King Kong part of the story should finally turn up. Anyway, do give your feedback! Please don't flame, though.


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter 2**

When the hourglass of the time-turner finally slowed to a stop and Harry's vision began to sharpen with focus, the surroundings seemed foreign. In fact, 'foreign' would be an absolute understatement. As Harry's emerald greens darted around at what he thought – or rather, _hoped_ – would still be the Weasleys' dark, narrow first-floor corridor, all he could see was the coarse façade of bark. Up above the rough buttresses was a huge canopy of leaves. The moon only barely peeked out from behind them.

"Oh Merlin," was all Harry uttered as he glanced around at his friends. Hermione looked about as shocked as he felt, and Ron had fallen on the ground, panting as though he had just returned from running a marathon, though other than that he didn't look very perturbed. But Harry didn't mind that. As long as Ron displayed any sort of calm, it would be fine because he didn't need any more panic to rise. Hermione's jittery feet, wringing hands and frightened features really summed everything up for them. Her head wouldn't even stay still as it flitted back and forth so quickly that she could probably unscrew it right off her neck.

"Harry, what did you _do_?!" she shrieked. "Where the hell are we?! We weren't supposed to literally _travel_, so how'd we end up in this _forest_ of all places?-"

Her questions kept sputtering out like a faulty exhaust engine and Harry couldn't get a word in edgeways. However, it wasn't exactly like he knew how to properly answer any of Hermione's queries without earning himself a good, hard smack over the head anyway, so responding would have been pointless. Instead, Harry decided to try to get their bearings, although that was a very pathetic and futile attempt as every direction one looked, one would only see tree trunk after tree trunk.

"Ron, a little help here…" Harry growled through gritted teeth as Hermione started gripping his arm so tightly in anxiety that he was sure it was going to leave a horrid bruise. "Any idea where we are?"

"Well, uh, I don't really know how you guys are going to take this…" Ron began shuffling his feet. "Feels strange telling you now of all times, but damn, you'd have to know eventually. But um, you see the Burrow wasn't built on nothing, right? And Dad didn't build it until he was of age. He's told us over and over again that he found this wooded piece of land and he had to clear it out himself and everything… and that's where he put the Burrow up. I'm guessing this is the spot. And y'know the orchard beyond our backyard? He had to deforest right up to that point before he could make anything decent out of it."

So _that_ was why he didn't seem the least bit worried about their whereabouts. They hadn't really gone anywhere at all. Nevertheless, his little sharing sparked a new surge of alarm.

"So _in what time_ are we exactly?" Harry asked slowly.

"We could be anytime between the Middle Ages and the 1970s," Hermione snapped irritably, abruptly releasing Harry's forearm. "But I think the real question is, how are we going to get out of here?"

"The 'without being seen' part seems pretty easy to me with so much foliage," Harry offered softly. He and Ron knew better than to push authority when Hermione was upset.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Ron squeaked. "I think I just saw something move."

"You're seeing things-"

"Oi! Who goes there?!" a gruff, scratchy tone sliced through the cold night air. Great long columns of light shone between the trunks of the trees soon after.

"Is there something you failed to mention Ron? About how your dad acquired the land?" Hermione's voice dropped to a terrified whisper as the three of them crept away slowly, silently praying the light would never find them.

"Oh yeah… Dad bluffed it off a grumpy old fool. Memory charm and all that," Ron swallowed. "So right now, we're kind of trespassing."

Even though they knew that if they broke off in a run, the crunching of the leaves at their feet would have given them away in a second, they did it anyway. There wasn't much undergrowth and it made it easier for them to get their feet up over the great fat roots sticking out of the ground. Still, every direction served as a blockade with a million trees towering over them, and things were definitely starting to look bleaker. Hermione, however, had an idea.

"We can only Apparate out of here," she murmured to her friends as they stopped to catch their breaths after awhile, hiding behind a particularly surfeit tree. Fortunately, the wind that slapped the bark and rippled the leaves overhead had obscured the sounds of their escape long enough. She caught sight of Harry's and Ron's expressions of disbelief and glared daggers at them both. "It's either that or we risk getting _seen_."

"But _where_ can't we Apparate to?" Harry wanted to know.

"Leave that to me," Hermione said as she pushed the boys further into the shadows. "With our luck, the crackling of the leaves will continue to pose as our cover. Just hold onto me _tight_."

Harry and Ron did as they were told, and as soon as they did they expected that they would be whisked off to someplace more familiar. Maybe Honeydukes, or King's Cross Station, or even bloody Charring Cross Road for all they cared…

However, it was exactly the converse. None of them had a clear enough state of mind to think of a plausible location. It was clear that Hermione's mind was reeling, but she simply couldn't pinpoint anything specific.

"Hermione…" Ron mumbled.

"I'm _thinking_-"

"Well, I don't mean to rush you but-"

"_Shut up_ or I won't get us anywhere!"

"But he's getting closer-"

Right at that moment, with a loud crack that rattled throughout the woodland, it was like they were never there at all.

* * *

The three friends pried open their eyes to find themselves somewhere that smelled _awful_. To Harry and Hermione, it reminded them greatly of the horse pens at the Muggle zoos they used to visit as children. To Ron, it was just like the apothecary at Diagon Alley, only much worse. The mixture of the smell of animal waste matter, the twang of metal and oddly enough, sea spray, was terribly nauseating.

"Hermione, of all places, you picked Snape's storage closet?" Ron groaned.

"His store cupboard doesn't smell this bad," Harry declared, waving his hand in front of his face.

"So seriously, _where_ is this place?" Ron tentatively asked as he began to survey the new setting. On the storey above them, muffled shouts could be heard together with the thumping of heavy footsteps. People seemed to be running. There was also a whole lot of resonant rumbling from the walls, and the floor shook. At present, it appeared as though they were trapped in a cage. Rusty Payne's grey grilles surrounded them and sandy straw bits littered the dirt-coated floor. Bistre crates lined the walls of the pen and in them were dozens of glass bottles the colour of raw umber with labels that read 'Chloroform' in stark black lettering.

"Get away from there!" Hermione precipitously tugged Harry and Ron from their spots nearest the crates. At that instant, soft voices could be heard heading towards the enclosure and they hushed up immediately.

"-So what are you, Mr Driscoll? A lion, or a chimpanzee?" a man's thick German accent filtered through the clatter. It had an air of cheekiness about it.

Harry, Ron and Hermione squinted at each other quizzically for a few moments before freezing in their spots as a tall, lanky man – presumably Mr Driscoll – stood before their enclosure. He wasn't facing the trio, which was the only reason he could have missed them.

A quick onceover of the man was enough for anyone to realise he didn't belong wherever he was at the moment. It was simply the matter of how he presented himself. His hair was quite neat albeit a little teased out of place, and the pressed white dress shirt, medium tan hessian vest, simple khaki breeches, and dark mahogany patent leather shoes didn't fit together with the rusty, dusty and, for lack of a better word, unsophisticated nature of the room. Something else didn't add up either: the man held a pillow and a roll of bedding over the heavy black overcoat in his arms.

_Can't imagine anybody living in this dump voluntarily,_ the thought randomly breezed through Hermione's mind. Nobody moved a muscle, wishing the man would carry on to the next cage.

"I'll just take this one," he muttered almost helplessly as he gestured towards the corral before him.

As he made a move to open the cage door, a huge lurch forward made him lose his balance slightly and he tugged on the gate as he leaned against the rusted grilles of the pen opposite. The trio was less stable on their feet. They stumbled rather ungracefully into each other and out of the enclosure, toppling over themselves and landing with thuds on the floor. A bottle of chloroform rolled out after them and was only stopped when a large, sea-soaked boot trapped it.

"Perfect," Hermione mumbled. _So much for not being seen._ She felt heat creep up the back of her neck to her cheeks as she stole quick glances at her friends. She didn't dare look up to see who else had witnessed their little slip. None of her friends seemed to think it was a good idea either, for both Harry and Ron had their eyes cast on something other than their little audience.

"You didn't tell me that enclosure was taken," Mr Driscoll stated plainly, although he sounded on the brink of laughter. In fact, as Harry timidly glimpsed in his direction, the man had a smirk playing across his thin lips.

The other man in the room – the one who sounded German – said nothing for a moment. Harry took an opportunity and turned his gaze toward him. One look at the cream-coloured peaked cap the man wore over his short, golden hair was enough information for him though. This man was a captain. However, he didn't appear bothered by the three youngsters sprawled over his floor. He was instead preoccupied with the bottle under his foot.

"Choy," he said in a voice that seemed calm and collected, but had danger hidden between the lines. "I thought I told you to lock this up. Do you want to put the whole ship to sleep?"

"We're on a ship?!" Ron's head whipped around to stare at Hermione, who could only shrug feebly in response.

"Sorry, Skipper!" a small-statured Chinese man bowed low. His shoulders were shaking under his superior's murderous baritone voice. "Lumpy said-"

"Lumpy isn't the captain of this ship," the man stated softly. "I am. Now lock it up. All of it."

"Yessir, Skipper!" Choy squeaked before heading to the corral to get the remaining crates out.

"Mr Driscoll, once Choy is finished, I'm sure you will find the enclosure to your liking," the captain sneered at Mr Driscoll's grimace. Then he turned his attention to Harry, Ron and Hermione.

His tone was stern and demanding as he spoke, "As for you three, you are coming up deck with me. I think an explanation is overdue."

* * *

**A/N:** This is an AU story, so whether the Burrow's geographical location is completely accurate or not is open to debate. I myself am not sure, but I don't think that's important. It's only somewhat significant to the events of the story anyway. And Ron being Mr Exposition? Hey, he lives there so I figured what better way. Plus, I read plenty of fanfictions where Ron's portrayed as kind of stupid, but I beg to differ. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed what you read and do leave your feedback!


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